


Three wishes

by so_damn_Mishalicious



Series: Witchery AU goodness [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creature Fic, Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, Flirty Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt just wants to nap, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Inspired by The Witcher, Jaskier is the djinn, M/M, creature!Jaskier, no beta we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_damn_Mishalicious/pseuds/so_damn_Mishalicious
Summary: Geralt is set to avoid his destiny until it takes his sleep from him.Not seeing another chance but to turn to magic, he seeks for a djinn to grant him his wish for peace.He might have bitten off more than he can chew.(Aka what had happened if Jaskier had been the djinn?)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witchery AU goodness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686538
Comments: 76
Kudos: 903
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to the Aladdin musical soundtrack made me think of this. Just a little something to write besides my Angel!Jaskier story.
> 
> Please mind my usual warning: strange grammar and errors originate from English not being my first language and my own sloppiness (duh). Also as I have not played the Witcher games or read the books yet, I know shit about geography and flora of places so I will probably make and mix up some of this stuff. This is not beta read and I own absolutely nothing - not the characters, the setting nor anything related to them.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and brighten the writer's day ♥

Seven years.

For seven years he had been able stall the inevitable. Geralt was good at ignoring things like wounds that needed treatment or people, throwing stones at him after he saved their sorry arses, calling him a monster. So destiny was no exception. He had no need for a child, even less a noble one, so he avoided entering Cintra or traveling close to their borders. The life of a witcher was not suited for a child or a family. They traveled alone, killing monsters for coin until they died doing so.

So for ten years there was nothing out of the ordinary. He took contracts, saved villages. Sometimes there were monster, sometimes there was money, rarely both. That was the life. The path was mostly silent, just him and his loyal mare Roach as no one dared to approach a witcher despite out of pure desperation. Sometimes he sat in his camp at night, near the fire, staring into the flames and wondered if there would have been another way to go. 

**_No._ ** The answer was obvious enough. Nothing good would ever come to a monster hunting monsters. He needed noone and the last thing he wanted, was someone needing him. So Geralt of Rivia, the butcher of Blaviken, turned his back on destiny and told it to bugger off. 

Apparently destiny was a bitch that didn't like to be fucked with, set on getting revenge. What was cruel to a man that swore not to feel, not to want anything or anyone, had nothing beside his life and swords? Not much, for sure. But the answer came in obvious again. It took his sleep, the only safe haven he could rest in. The last thing a witcher needed was a distracted mind. They were all about control, otherwise their heightened senses and feral instincts turned into a curse instead of a blessing. 

Now that no rest ever seemed to come to the white-haired witcher, no matter how tired he was or when his body begged to black out, it just couldn't. His nerves ran thin in no time and his temper flared hotly. Screaming at the heavens, he demanded an answer for what he deserved all this. Had he not always served his duty well? Had he not sacrificed enough? Why punish him like that for a reasonable decision? 

There was no answer, just silence. If witchers had emotions, Geralt had been sure to weep.

Days stretched into weeks. Weeks to months. He felt hollow, cold. Numb no matter where we went or what he fought or how much he bled. Everything blurred into a mayor heap of grey mass, slowing down his body, coursing through his veins like poison but no mercy was bestowed on him. Destiny was up for a battle he couldn't win. Sitting in a run-down inn in some backwater village, drinking ale that tasted like ash on his tongue, his ears picked up a rumor floating around. It was too foolish to hold any truth, not even the one spouting it really seemed to believe in what his tale was about. No human would be desperate enough to follow up on a whisper, to take the risks and hardships of a highly fruitless search for a wish granting creature that might not exist after all. _Good thing he was no human._

So it happened that Geralt went out to fish in a lake, searching for a djinn. He had spent hours there, throwing out his net over and over again. A painful feeling of desperation marred his bones, throat constricting around the air he direly needed. 

_He'd never be free again._ Then so be it. 

He'd rather go down fighting than to bow to destiny's whim.

On the last throw the net got stuck. Probably tangled in a stone or a branch stuck on the bottom. The witcher pulled, cursing quietly under his breath. It had cost him good coin to acquire the damn net in the first place, no way he was ripping it now. He planned to make further use of it in his remaining miserable existence. So he waded into the water, hands searching for the ends, untangling them from whatever hold. He frowned as he hauled it in again, bunching it into a tight coil around his fist. Something seemed to be inside, not exactly heavy but noticeable. A fish maybe? The little emotion he felt fell from his face upon noticing what it was.

An amphora. _The djinn_.

It was real.

Climbing back on land, his legs felt strangely weak. On closer inspection there was nothing extraordinary about the vessel, it seemed like nothing but a harmless piece of pottery. What sealed the amphore though reeked of old powerful magic of a sorcerer, whispering to his senses, his medaillon humming against his chest.

For once luck seemed to be in his favour. Finally - fucking finally - he'd be able to get a proper rest. His entire being craved it, his soul bearing too many chips to withstand the pull of letting go any longer. So the witcher broke the seal and uncorked the vessel, uncaring for what happened next. It would all feel the same. Maybe he was to find peace in meeting his end.

At first nothing happened. It was rather anticlimactic, another spit in the face that was his life. Hot, red anger boiled up inside him and without further thinking, he smashed the amphora on the ground, breaking it in a thousand pieces. Well deserved, he found, like his hope that lay shattered at his feet.

Then there was a sudden change in the air. The sky darkened, dipping everything in grey twilight, the wind picking up into a harsh breeze, tearing on his form. The whispers assaulting his mind grew in volume as everything else around him fell silent, until it felt like a scream piercing his ears. 

In all the chaos surrounding him his catlike eyes made out a shadow, a silhouette rising from dust and smoke, it's claws extending towards him. The instinct to flee kicked in, his body unable to budge in the slightest, every muscle rooted in place as old pure power flooded over him like the deep sea, trying to drown him in it's stormy currents. With no way out he could only watch, white hair whipping into his face, mesmerized and terrified by the occurrence in front of him.

As quickly as it came, it was over again. Like nothing had happened, the scenery went back to its buzzing self, a mild summer day near the lake side. Birds picked up their songs again, bees and other insects humming in the air. Geralt fell to his knees, the ancient grip holding him upright vanished in an instant. Gulping for air, his body shook violently. His stomach churned and wouldn't he cling to his last shreds of control, he'd thrown up on the spot.

_What the fuck just happened? Where was the damn djinn?_

"Well hello there, beautiful!"

Whipping around he came to face with a man that definitely had not been there a moment ago. The other was standing casually below the trees lining the lake, a hand resting on his hip, toothy grin in place.

"Sorry about the whole - you know. Flashy opening thing. Hadn't been out for a while and you rather unceremoniously destroyed my home of the past few hundred years so I guess I eh… went a bit over the top there. May I lend you a hand? You look a bit pale... or is this like some kind of fashiony thing? Definitely suits you well."

A flourish movement of his free hand accompanied the quickly spoken words. Eyes narrowing into a glare, Geralt struggled to get back to his feet. On a first glance the other could be mistaken for a normal human - his lithe form, rather common face and chestnut hair betraying nothing of what he really was. But the witcher could taste the magic in the air surrounding them, thick and old.

_Powerful._

Unnaturally blue eyes solely fixated on him and his throat felt strangely dry. Biting back on a witty remark, he settled on a low rumble of acknowledgement instead. Better not to rub the all-powerful creature in front of him the wrong way. He didn't need a djinn's curse and destiny against him.

The response didn't seem to please the other, his face settling in what resembled a pout. 

"Oh dear, got myself a silent one. Fun."

The djinn crossed the distance between them and just now Geralt took in the other's clothes. They seemed outdated and overly bright in their teal colour, definitely useless for travelling unnoticed. The ornaments and embroidery work spoke of great fortune, clothes only nobles would wear that presented their riches to outsiders like peacocks. Most of them didn't live long without the protection of guards..

Facing each other he noticed the djinn was missing only a few inches in height. Overall his impression was that of a feeble human, weak and vulnerable. Enough to easily fool mere mortals. Only below the facade of softness, a powerful force simmered, ready to be awakened. It did something strange to his stomach, again, so he decided rather not to dwell on it. Unsure how to proceed, the white-haired witcher decided to take the easiest solution and asked in a clipped voice, "So three wishes, hmn?"

Now the djinn did seem to be amused by whatever floated his boat and nodded with a overly dramatic sigh.

"You're right, mysterious stranger. You are my master now and I - the mighty djinn called Jaskier - shall grant three wishes to your sexy self."

An obnoxious eyebrow wiggle followed along these words and for a moment Geralt pondered if the creature wanted to fuck with him. In a metaphorical and true to the word sense at once. A deep growl exited his throat. This was not what he came here for.

"Stop spouting that nonsense. I wish for you to put me to sle-"

A slender finger urgently pressed to his lips stopped him mid sentence, the brunette tutting at him.

"Oh my, that was a close call. Are you not aware to never utter such rash words around my kind? With a request like that, sloppy and vague in wording, I could twist your wish into almost everything."

Blue eyes searched for his golden ones, as the offending hand was removed from the witcher's mouth in a harsh manner.

"First of all, rude. Secondly, you want a nap that badly? Then I can put you to sleep - how about a little decade? A century or a millennia? Sleeping you would but never to awake again, so think before uttering thoughtless requests out loud."

The threat was more than obvious and it made Geralt's leftover patience vane even more.

"You're lucky, I'm in a good mood and it would be a shame to put this to waste, right?"

The hand was back on him, feeling up his chest this time.

"There are surely… other methods to properly tire you out."

_How could any of this be his life?_

With a deep sigh, he passed the other, too exhausted to bring up the spirit to fight, collecting his pack. That seemed to startle the djinn that called himself Jaskier, his look curios while never straying far from the witcher's form.

"Are you perhaps short on a marble? What are you doing? What about the wish you were so eager to get?"

Securing his belongings safely to Roach's back, he couldn't muster enough manners to spare another glance into the brunette's direction.

"I'm leaving. Nowhere in hell I'm drunk enough to handle this nonsense now."

It took him no longer to swing himself into the saddle and he departed, leaving the djinn behind, not looking back once. Closing his burning eyes, he tried to concentrate on his breathing. It brought him no relief, no soothing of what ailed him. If only he hadn't picked the damn law of surprise. Then all of this hellish nonsense wouldn't have happened in the first place…

"So where are we heading to?"

A flinch tore him from his thoughts. Again the other had appeared by his site, the fact slipping his notice. There was no way he could allow that to grow into a habit. To his utter dismay the djinn was keen on chatting away, talking like he had pent up all these words, now eager to blow them all, a little skip in his steps.

"You know, I can't leave your side while you're still in possession of your wishes so I guess this makes us travel companions. I remember clearly the last time this happened: I stumbled across a young mage a few centuries ago, just as he-".

Jaskier babbled away, definitely not intending on stopping anytime soon. Closing his eyes again, he groaned to himself, exasperation weighing heavier than ever.

_What had he done to deserve this?!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse wanted some cheeky Jaskier so here he is.
> 
> Please mind my usual warning: strange grammar and errors originate from English not being my first language and my own sloppiness (duh). Also as I have not played the Witcher games or read the books yet, I know shit about geography and flora of places so I will probably make and mix up some of this stuff. This is not beta read and I own absolutely nothing - not the characters, the setting nor anything related to them.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and brighten the writer's day ♥

It had been a few hundred years since he he was last summoned and it felt good to be outside again. Of course the silent witcher didn't provide an idle conversation partner but who was he to judge? Most mages he served hadn't been any better, using him for nothing more than his powers before trapping him again. Also this guy was hands down gorgeous and that was definitely a bonus. A bit on the dumb and brash side maybe but well - nobody was perfect?

They made their way to the nearest village, nothing too big and that suited him just fine. He wasn't keen on bothering with people too much, only wanting to pick up a bit of chatter here and there, filling in on what he had missed. An inn also wasn't too hard to find - after all his dear witcher was in the mood to drink himself stupid. So he strolled to the bar, shooting the serving maid an enthralling smile and ordered the strongest drink they had. Poor thing blushed adorably, what a shame his interest was caught otherwise. The air in the room felt stiff bordering on hostile. He noticed most conversations died down as they entered. Even now most patrons had the nerve to shoot distrustful glares at the white-haired man in the corner. 

He didn't have the pleasure to meet a witcher before though he had known about their existence and as far he was aware they dealt with ugly threats to mankind, ridding them of monsters for coin. Obviously gratitude wasn't part of the deal and he snorted to himself, a familiar bitterness rising up. Not a single master had the manners to thank him for his services. They imprisoned him at a young age. He was barely an adult back then, his powers not yet stable and they didn't give a monkey's about it. All they looked for was satisfying their greed, a deed he would not be able to witness, not even in another millenia. And they dared to wonder why he tried to twist their every word to an disadvantage. Idiots, all of them.

He paid with some coins that had magically found their way from some measly drunkard's pockets into his own and winked at the maid before taking the drinks and returning to the table, stopping just a few steps short to admire the view.

"Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood."

Ignoring the witcher's glare he took his seat, pushed one drink towards his companion before nipping at his own. Not too bad, he had worse.

"So as much as I enjoy your silent sulking because that makes out a big chunk of your mysterious flair… now that there's a glass in your hand, how about you give me your name at least? So I know whose whims I am to bow to?"

A growl followed, like he was poking a caged wolf with a stick. The other took the glass he had offered and a big swig out of it, before huffing out, "Geralt. Geralt of Rivia."

Jaskier used the chance to ogle Geralt some more. He was strong for sure, big muscles hidden under the linen shirt he had been wearing at the river, now covered by a black leather armour. Fancy thing it was, definitely complementing his pale complexion and those beautiful yellow eyes he could look at an indefinite amount of time without growing bored. They reminded him of the sun, burning down from the sky, heating up the endless sands of his home world. A sting of nostalgia hit his being and his gaze wandered on from white hair, over broad shoulders to those big hands and hmm… they'd look perfectly all over his own body.

"Well then - Geralt," he took his sweet time pronouncing the name, tasting it on his tongue, "as I have mentioned before I have to accompany you on your path as long you're in possession of your wishes. And as you sadly destroyed my vessel," he faked a pout and drew his finger over the wood of the table, "You will have to deal with me in person. No worries - rest assured I'm a very capable travel companion and there's definitely nothing you can-"

"I need nothing."

He blinked. Once. Twice.

"I beg your pardon?"

Surely he had just misheard the words just said. The other looked at him with the same grim expression he always seemed to have. Oh dear - resting bitch face, your name was Geralt of Rivia. After another downing from the spirit inside the glass, Geralt rumbled once more. 

"I need nothing. And the last thing I want is someone needing me. All I want is the ability to finally sleep again."

The djinn snorted, a tad too loud for his own liking. Could you believe this man? Never before he had encountered someone  _ not _ wanting things. Some of his summoners had even prepared all their three wishes in a speech, like they had waited for that moment their entire lives. But there was the witcher, the man that fished him out of a river to ask for  _ a fucking nap _ and Jaskier wondered if there was more to that grumpy hunk of a man that met the eye. Leaning back with a casual smile, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well then, guess we can't do anything about that then. Seems like we'll be the best friends in the entire world as we're about to spend a lot of time together."

"You're bound to pestering me by the magic that's enslaving you right?" yellow eyes traced the rim of his own drink as the djinn nodded solemnly, "I don't need more than what I said. What about I set you free with the next wish and we'll just stick to our own business as we've always done?"

Thoughts screeched to a halt, a simple offer making him gape like a fish. No one had ever… not even speculated to…

_ It's a trap!,  _ his mind screamed at him,  _ he wants to lure you into safety before he backstabs you. He's just like the others! _

Oh but how his heart ached for the witcher to speak the truth. He knew how it felt to be treated like a beast, taken advantage of and then tossed away like trash. Maybe he was indeed… different. 

"You… you would…?" His voice came out far too hopeful and he winced at that, "it's not funny to make jokes about such things, you know?" 

Geralt frowned, then nodded. "No jokes. I have no use for a djinn besides that."

That should have hurt his pride but instead his heart skipped a beat. Oh he so was a goner for that one. Love and lust had always come easy to him and who was he to deny himself this otherworldly creature? A smug grin crept to his lips as he held out his hand. "Deal."

They shook in agreement and he downed his drink in a quick motion, trying not to act too giddy about that. Time flew by as they sat there, nursing more drinks and he felt generous, so he bought them a good meal and a room as well. The white-haired man wasn't drunk, keeping in mind the copious amount of alcohol he consumed but he was definitely a little intoxicated as Jaskier manoeuvred him towards their room. He pointedly ignored the witcher's grunt when his hands strayed a bit of target sometimes but he kept himself from molesting him too much. 

The bigger man flopped ungraceful on top of the bed as he let go, his eyes closed, rumbling deep in his throat. Good thing he had magic so it was easy enough to vanish the witcher's heavy clothing with a swish of his hand while he drew the covers over his form. It reappeared in a neat like in one of the corners a second later and he nodded to himself as he sat down on the edge of the bed. The magic shackles on his wrists kept him from using larger portions of his magic outside of wishes but he still had some neat tricks up his sleeve. Looking down he noticed the man looked tired as hell, a fatigue wretched into his features that seemed too old for him to bear. Leaning closer, yellow eyes opened and focused on him, assessing his motivation before closing again. "Don't you dare try to kiss me."

The brunette huffed out a laugh. "That's even too kinky for me, Geralt. I don't take advantage of intoxicated people."

Instead he drew on his powers, summoning up a little… a little gift so to say. For the other's pleasant company. That must have snapped awake the witcher's senses again, sitting up, halfway through a "What are you-" as his hand touched his forehead and he went limp. Good thing he was already lying in a bed, the dead weight made it groan in effort as he slumped back on the mattress. The pain hit the djinn moments after and he hissed through his clenched teeth, skin sizzling under the burn of his magic restraints. It took all of his self-control not to scream and more time to breath through what it did to him after the pain depleted. His whole body shook on the ground he fell on, the aftershocks still coursing through his body. Some tears fought their way out of his eyes, as he tried to focus again. Whatever kept Geralt of Rivia from sleeping, was more powerful than anything he had encountered. Ever.

_ Quite a day of firsts then _ . Groaning at his own lame joke, he pushed himself up once he could muster it, feeling sore and exhausted. A fur rug lay on the ground, nothing extraordinary but it would do. Robbing over and settling down on it, he sighed. Curling on top of the soft fabric, Jaskier closed his eyes and tried to relax. The only sound inside the room were the witcher's steady, deep breaths and it soothed him enough that he fell asleep.

_ Quite a day indeed _ .

+++

Turned out his magic seemed just to do the trick and Geralt slept for three days straight. This wasn't how Jaskier planned it to go but well life was full of surprises and he made the best out of what he dealt with. He paid up for the room, sneaking further funds from men he passed by in the streets, the lot of them too busy to notice it missing over spouting rude and absolute unseemly comments about the women making their way down the road. He also took care of buying himself some new clothes. Though he liked his attire, fashion seemed to have changed a bit and he wouldn't want to be responsible for a proper faux pas while traveling this continent soon. Settling for some nice garments in lively colours, he was very satisfied with his choice.

A good haul for everything he could need for his journey later, he waltzed back into the room and opened the curtains to let the sun in.

"Rise and shine, pretty one. Enough of you pretending to be dead, it's time to get up and be on our ways sooner than later!"

Strumming some chords on the lute he treated himself with, made the man on the bed stir. It had been more of an impulse purchase but if it came in handy, even better - with an eternity of freedom to come, he had enough time on his hands to get versed in playing it. Geralt rose from the bedding with a grunt and a very bad case of bed hair, then set out to dress himself. Not much of a morning person it seemed. Just that it was mid day already. And that the other was never a big conversationalist to begin with. Anyway he made his way through the room, lazy chords filling the air while yellow eyes followed his every movement. One of the strings sounded a little off, so he reinforced that with a little magic. Ah, better.

"Why did you do that?"

The djinn looked up from the instrument. "Mending the string? Well it kinda pains my hearing to let-"

"Not the damn lute!" the witcher snapped, before taking it back a notch, "why did you put me to sleep? I didn't use a wish for it."

Short silence was followed by a quick shrug from the djinn, now musician. "I'm not evil and you looked dead on your feet, so consider it a taste for what you could have. I didn't fix the problem permanently." 

He didn't add the ' _ I'm also not sure if I could solve that after what I experienced before.'  _ crossing his mind. His pride had taken a beating by that, so he had to look for a loophole and if loopholes weren't just his thing, he didn't know what.

Leaving the witcher to his dressing and attending his other needs, he passed time by improving his musical skills. Soon they sat where they had been three days ago, a platter of food in front of them he left for the other to devour after three days without nourishment while he continued to play. He was getting somewhere, slowly but surely, tongue sticking out in concentration while working his way through an easy melody he still remembered from his childhood. There was a battle going on in his companion's mind, he could feel it brush on his senses and after what felt like hours, he finally broke.

"What's that whole lute thing about? Never heard of a djinn with a passion for music."

And show time. Flipping back a lock of his hair with a graceful movement, he grinned broadly. "But my friend that is just who I am! Welcome me, the bard extraordinaire traveling with the mighty witcher, the songbird to the majestic white wolf. I, formerly known as Julian Alfred Pankratz, son of the Viscount de Lettenhove, raised in Redania und taught in Oxenfurt, donned the mantle of Jaskier, a humble bard to bring my creations into the world and inform humanity about... the great deeds you and your guild achieve every day, in order to keep humanity save from the scourge plaguing these lands!"

If Geralt was at least a bit impressed, he was very good at hiding it. "Not your friend. Also sounds like bullshit to me."

He returned back to polishing off the rest of their meal. Jaskier would deny pouting at that very moment but he might have sulked for a little bit. "It might not be perfect _but_ it's close enough to a truth that _might be_ so people will believe it more easily."

Shoving the last piece of food into his mouth, the other shot him a glare. "There's nothing noble about our work. We kill monsters, we collect payment. Nothing else."

Oh so that was what  _ really _ irked the man. Not his exaggerated made up background. The unusual perception of his own work. Fondness welled up in him, so he continued working his lute, tearing his eyes away from the handsome face.

"Isn't that just what a noble man would say?"

Flight seemed to be a witcher's preferred way to deal with a discussion he ran out of arguments in, so Jaskier made haste to follow the broody man exiting the inn towards the stables. The thing about singing about noble deeds had just been a joke, something he had come up with on the spot. But on second thought, maybe he could work with that. Correct some wrongs for fellow misunderstood souls. He used the strap on the lute and shoved it to his side after shouldering his pack, before shouting.

"You know you can't outrun me, right?"

He chuckled over the answering noncommittal humm and set out to catch up with his not-quite-friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's three wishes - so three chapters.
> 
> The last one will resolve mostly about our boys meeting Yennefer. But there's space for some shenanigans along the way so -
> 
> Any wishes? Prompts?
> 
> Also I'm still undecided which PoV to put it - would you rather have more Geralt or Jaskier?
> 
> Please make sure to leave that the in the comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What marathon... I never wrote something that long before and I'm drained after 12h of working on this. I'm quite satisfied how it turned out so I hope you can enjoy it as well.
> 
> Please heed the previous warnings. Thank you.
> 
> Also feedback keeps your writer happy 💖 so feel free to leave some.

For a man claiming to want nothing, Geralt of Rivia damn sure made a lot of almost wishing. 

They were traveling together for a few weeks now and the constant tingle of his magic triggering, when the witcher sloppily formed words into an half-baked expression of desire, nearly drove him crazy. Not all wishes started with "I wish for", there were other possibilities to phrase them as long as the need for this exact thing was woven into it. So he tried his best to keep the witcher from wasting his wishes for minor things. Reminders to the warrior himself seemed useless, it was like talking to a brick wall made of sexy flesh that mostly didn't bother replying. So yeah, like a wall after all. It was exhausting. Jaskier began to wonder why he bothered to do so in the first place. 

There had been a situation with a smith three weeks ago, that tried to swindle them out of more money than necessary. Geralt had only eyed the work, voice gruff as the retorted, 

"Wonder why I should pay more for this shit job. It won't make you eat your own fi-". 

In his panic Jaskier had grabbed the closest thing he could reach and hurled it at his companion to stop the wish from forming. Turned out it was a bucket of cold, stale water that doused the witcher from head to toe, making him hiss like a soaked cat. At least the smith was scared out of any price negotiations at the display, so they went away without spending more coin for a proper repair of Geralt's swords. Geralt did try to keep him out of the room they rented back then though, barring the entrance. But Jaskier wasn't a magic entity for nothing - he found a way to weasel his way back inside and also into the bed, being pointedly ignored by his friend.

Or when they recently visited a local brothel. Not that he hadn't suggested to just do the job himself. He did his best, flashing a charming smile even used his sultry words but he was curtly dismissed. So he sulked during the whole way to the whorehouse, taking in the shabby establishment while Geralt haggled with the bawd. She definitely wasn't overjoyed with their visit but it brought coin, so she accepted the witcher's presence. Still she raised the fee for the night. That drew a snort out of the rather silent man. 

"You know I'd like to think your girls would jump me for f-"

A loud clang drew both their gazes to the bard, standing next to a turned over table, glasses shattered at his feet, while smiling sheepishly. 

"Oops… I'm so clumsy sometimes…"

They were run out of the building without any further services and managed to duck in time as something was thrown after them.

"Well I _did_ tell you we could have handled this on our own in a quicker, more efficient way, right?"

A wink followed the words. He was met with cold silence again and deflated somewhat. It's not that he meant any harm, still the atmosphere between them stayed tense until morning. It returned back to a kind of normality then and Jaskier liked to count that as a win. Times before that, it had taken several days for them to make up. If one could call it that.

Things like that happened frequently during their travels and the djinn mused if the other was doing so on purpose. Eying him more closely he discarded the thought, the witcher stayed oblivious to the whole matter. They surely needed a plan to solve it though. Until now the Jaskier had successfully dodged the issue of regranting Geralt the ability for proper sleep, because he hadn't been able to find a solution to that. No matter what how he tried to temper with - what kept the white-haired man from resting properly always slipped from his grasp or even bit him in the arse, causing him more burns. Frustration was running high, both mental and physical as his knucklehead companion also refused to succumb to his allure. Not the best situation he had been in before.

At least his musical talents had flourished. The higher arts came to him like a second nature and he exercised as much as he could, on any given chance. His first own songs weren't perfect but catchy and to the liking of most of their audiences. They found themselves an inn again, near the city of Rinde, where Geralt got rid of a nasty nest of Nekkers. He noted down these words brushing his mind. They could serve just fine for a song about said hunt. 

His blue eyes strayed to the notebook in front of him - it had been a gift from Geralt, alongside a piece of coal to write. He had been startled by this obvious show of affection and also the other man seemed rather embarrassed, ushering him to 'just fucking take it'.

Geralt said opposite of him at their table, his back to the wall. A habit of his, he learned, less options for attacks out of the blue. The man was focused on his meal, a hot bowl of soup and some bread. The fight hadn't been too bad but it still exhausted him. He began to grow weary again, the brunette noted. Even the witcher's usual meditation or a forced unconsciousness from blood loss couldn't bring the soothing rest of sleep. 

A bowl of soup sat in front of him as well, though the other should know he didn't really need it. Eating was more a fancy for him than a real necessity. Geralt paid that no mind. He stubbornly tried to keep up the facade of an emotionless tool hunting monsters, stripped of any sort of attachment. Jaskier knew better. 

The djinn had noticed the small smiles tugging on the man's lips when he said something. Or his lingering touches when he thought the bard in danger. He noticed the extra shares of food and drink, just like the extra blanket set out for him, after confessing being to the cold when they camped outside. Hell, the witcher even tolerated him touching his beloved horse and he surely loved spoiling Roach. She was a great mare, a noble steed and loyal companion, so he steadily snuck her treats to reward her excellent endurance of madness revolving around them. By now the stoic man also seemed more relaxed around him, sometimes taking the offers for a massage after a strenuous day or trusting him to take care of treating the wounds received by doing his witchery job. Jaskier ensured to prove himself a worthy travel companion, not wanting to lose this trust again.

A warm feeling spread inside him. The big old loner was a softie at heart, maybe not a master of words but his actions spoke for him. It struck the chords of his heart just right and maybe he knew the answer, why he put up with keeping Geralt from using his wishes. Because he wanted to stay by his side for a little longer. They agreed to stick to their own business after this whole thing but he didn't want to leave just yet. He liked walking besides the man, traveling the path together and the constant prickle of danger surrounding him. After long, lonely years in the shitty amphora he yearned for something more, something that made him feel alive. And being with Geralt of Rivia made him feel like that.

Just as he wanted to get up from the table to get them some drinks, a man approached them, hiding under a dark robe. He seemed skittish, like he expected someone to follow him but offered a contract to the witcher nonetheless. Claiming to be a member of Rinde's court, he talked about a vile witch that had settled into their midst, hexing their mayor into obedience, now taking advantage of their people's hard earned money and sometimes even robbing away their freedom. The promised reward was generous for sure, would hold them afloat for at least two weeks of continued stays in taverns or other rooms with meals, baths and the luxury of a bed. 

It piqued Jaskier's curiosity that his friend didn't seem happy but accepted the contract anyway, demanding half the payment upfront. The man left quickly and they also left for the stables short after. The city of Rinde wasn't more than an hour's ride, with some luck they'd able able to get the whole thing done today.

"So a witch, huh? It's been some time since I last dealt with their kind and it didn't end too well but I'm trying to be positive about this whole ordeal.", rambling away, he tried to ease the distress of his friend. He tried to keep that under tight wraps but Jaskier could still feel it tormenting him, "How about you? Any sexy adventures you'd like to share?"

Geralt rolled his eyes in an exasperated fashion.

"No they're troublesome, the whole lot is. But often enough people need them and their crafts. Unfortunately they tend not back out of a fight, so I'll try to sway her to move to another town.", he glanced at the djinn, before he mounted his horse, "If I have to choose between one evil or another, then I prefer not to choose at all."

Wise words spoken. He still wasn't quite sure he understood all of their meaning, there seemed to be a story to it, the man wasn't keen on sharing. He didn't push that matter for once and together they made their way down the road to Rinde.

+++

The manor of the mayor was located in a lovely spot outside of town. True, they didn't meet many people on their way, maybe intimidated by the things happening around and the witcher wandering their streets or they were simply busy with other things. So the ride was quick and it didn't take much to break the locks of the house, after binding Roach's reigns to a nearby tree with enough grass on a nearby patch to keep her occupied. 

What he didn't expect was the naked old man in the kitchen, holding a jug of apple juice which was destined to be brought to the witch upstairs. He'd rather forget the whole unaesthetic image that wormed its way into his brain, thank you. Geralt, none-the-wiser, took the pot from the man's hand that instantly fell asleep near the hearth, snoring loudly. At least someone was blessed with a healthy sleeping habit.

It had been some time since his last proper orgy, so the whole display of writhing bodies in the heights of pleasure surprised but didn't unsettle him. At the end of the room sat the witch, clad in a black fine dress with a matching mask in place, looking ethereal and unnaturally beautiful. Like the eye of the storm everything seemed to brush by, nothing moving her in the least. A delicate hand caught his doublet as they crossed the distance and a lovely lady with an equally lovely bosom pressed close to his side, hindering him from further following Geralt. For a second he pondered over the possibility to enjoy the moment at least for a tiny bit when he caught a whiff of her smell. It was thick with want but something about that felt strange. Twisted. Like it had been artificially wrung from her body. 

How could he not notice before? Magic hung in the air like a blanket, wrapping tight around everyone in the room. Only him, Geralt and the witch seemed unfazed by that. Looking in the clouded eyes of the woman in front of him, it dawned on him and doused him like a bucket of ice.

_The humans were forced to participate in this._

Disgust left a bitter taste inside his mouth. He was proud to consider himself a spirit of lust and he was in favour of free love but on consensual terms only. It made him angry, seeing the witch taking advantage on these people. So he did what he needed to do: he dispelled the incantation trapping them. 

For a moment everything froze before the humans came to themselves, shocked and afraid, scrambling for their clothes and to leave the room. He bit back a snide remark. Mostly not to voice his discomfort over the burn of his shackles but also - and more importantly - out of pure spite.

The eyes of the witch were fixed on him now, studying him with unhealthy interest. She was indeed very sexy but also utterly insane. 

_Just great_.

Finally Geralt spurred into motion, taking a step closer to the sorceress. He'd tell her to shove off, maybe terrorise some other backwater nest village far away from here and they'd be back on their merry ways. Holding up the jar, he uttered a flustered,

"I uh, brought you apple juice."

_What the ever loving fuck?!_

Something about his temper flaring must have reached the witcher's senses as he turned to the bard, taking in his unnerved features. The lack of patience was scribbled all over the witcher's face, while he retorted a hissed,

"I have this under control."

+++

"So this is what you call 'under control', huh?"

Maybe mocking an imprisoned man wasn't a fine suit but heck, to hell with that! He knew the witch was crazy the moment he laid his eyes on her but no - the witcher had to settle for some lovey dovey bullshit instead of heeding his warning. He stood in front of the man sitting on the floor of the shabby prison Rinde called their own, bound with iron shackles, scowling at his friend while he tried to fight his restraints and continued.

"Care to know what she made you do? So you can decide if your little rampage was worthwhile? I'll indulge you for once: you attacked a pawnbroker in his shop, kicking him in delicate places. You also dragged the apothecary out into the street and gave his bare arse a beating with a bat."

He circled the witcher that got to his feet, grumbling like he experienced the worst hangover ever. 

"And do you want to know the most hilarious thing about that? They're both members of the town council and voted to usurp the mayor, to then kick Yennefer out. And now they're after your head."

He stopped face to face with the other, looking grim. Maybe it was jealousy talking but it hurt so bad. 

"She used you Geralt. Like a disposable tool to enact revenge in her place. I do hope it was worth it."

Before the witcher could respond in kind the door to the shady cell was opened, a member of the guard joining them. The man didn't hide his murderous intent towards the mutant and before long, a rain of punches and kicks brought the white-haired man to the ground. Jaskier just stood there, hurting but silent. Even if he wanted to intervene he _couldn't_. Another punch to Geralt's gut made him wince, wanting to help yet powerless. The insults the man spouted were horrendous, full of hate and only the limited amount of sass that the witcher countered them with, gave him small slivers of hope. 

One more punch. A grunt. The guard seemed exhausted but amused, his limit of patience reached. 

"Your last words witcher… make them good."

Fighting his way to his knees, Geralt spat out a puddle of blood, grating his teeth while uttering,

" _A way to burst, you son of a whore._ "

A familiar tingle of magic burned inside him. This time he hadn't been able to intervene so what his master asked for formed in his mind. His eyes shone in an otherworldly glow while it was granted.

_"Your wish is my command."_

The cell charged itself with magic, old and powerful, different from the scene in the estate. It continued to concentrate, tensed around the guard that gasped for air, frozen in place. With a sickening crunch his whole body exploded and Geralt was showered in blood and intestines, he was left unspotted. Just now his white-haired companion seemed to notice there was something off about him. Of course it was, he was there but _not really_ there after all. A sad smile found its way to his lips.

"That was your first wish. Two more to go."

A jolt of pain surged through his body and his projection flickered. He didn't want to go back. He'd rather stay with his friend. The pull became unbearable, dragging him back to his core and he wheezed.

"Please Geralt, save me."

Then he was gone.

+++

He gasped for air when his mind retracted itself into his body too quickly. The bindings around his wrists, tying him to the bed were still in place, digging into his skin as he pulled them. They had to be magically enhanced, otherwise they wouldn't be able to withstand his assaults. Heaving from the strain put on his body, he noticed the witch sitting at the end of the bed. Of course it was her doing. She had been the one to chain him here in the first place. She had seen through his bardic disguise in a second and planned to use him for further madness.

"Welcome back. Enjoyed your little stroll?"

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. The fierce determination behind them made him shiver and he wished himself back to his mental resort.

"I told you, I cannot give you what you want! There is no possibility to restore your womb, even if you were the one with the wishes."

The hurt flickering in her eyes made him squirm but it disappeared as quickly as it came. This one was a strong-willed woman for sure and normally he would have been impressed, maybe even aroused if weren't so downright terrified. She moved away from the bed, returning to the ritual circle she drew on the floor. She couldn't dare to... would she?

"That's too bad then. Nevertheless I'd rather convince myself of that fact. Men are usually held back by their own idiocy and pointless fear.", another candle was lit to complete the circle. Its weight bore down on Jaskier's chest like iron. "So I make myself your new vessel and absorb your powers. I will find a way."

Oh, she dared to. Damn that bitch got bigger balls than most of humanity he met in his life. He respected that. Still the prospect of his whole being getting torn apart, his body shattered to pieces to meld with the sorceress sounded less than alluring. Maybe he could still reason with her.

"Please Yennefer, listen to me. There might be a lot my powers are capable of but they can't fight destiny!"

Oh. OH.

How could he have been so blind? Realisation dawned. The reason why Geralt wasn't able to sleep was because he opposed destiny. 

But how? And why?! 

It seemed like he wouldn't be around much longer to ask his dumbass witcher for the answer. The dark-haired sorceress wasn't swayed in the least. He realised he didn't even bid Geralt goodbye. Hmn, shame. Jaskier missed him already.

"Enough talking. Let's move on to the important part."

Closing her eyes in concentration, Yennefer began to recite an incantation. It made him stretch, his body pulled taught like a bow string. Each word drove itself into his flesh like a blade, tearing at the seams that kept him inside the shape he had chosen for himself. Choking back a cry, he strained unsuccessfully against the bonds. There was be no way for a human to contain an entity like him. She'd burst with the raw power of an entirely different plane of existence and both of them would die. 

Sooner than later both of them were writhing in agony but the ritual didn't stop. An unnatural rage filled him to the brim, his form tearing slowly, blue lights of magic bleeding out of his core.

_"Why do you do that? What do you really want?!"_

His own voice sounded distorted, booming through the room like a thunderclap. It sounded menacing like the monster's cry he pretended not to be. The witch wailed in return and threw her head back, screaming at the ceiling in the vain attempt to contain the chaos.

" _I WANT EVERYTHING_!"

He could feel the foundation of the room, no the whole manor, fall apart. Helpless against the maelstrom of magic, it crumbled around them, pieces of wood and stone groaning before being ripped away in the overwhelming winds pushing outside. Through a hole in the ceiling he could see the sky, hung with dark grey clouds. Heavy with sinister omens, dipping the area in unholy twilight as their combined inhuman screams shrilled through the space surrounding them.

Then suddenly, in all the pain, the despair and the chaos was Geralt. Like a cool touch to his mind he soothed his ailed spirit and he nearly wept at the familiar sight of his friend in the doorway. 

_He came. He really came._

But his eyes were transfixed on Yennefer, shouting something that was lost to him in the raging storm. Again he realised his mistake.

_Geralt didn't come for him._

He shed a single tear, a wet trail left on his cheek. All his strength slowly used up to keep himself from bursting. To stay here a little longer and oppose his inevitable end. But was that wise? It earned him nothing but anguish and a broken heart. Maybe it was better to let go. No one gave a monkey's about him anyway.

Just as he was about to surrender, the tingle of magic was back as a wish formed. Cornflower blue eyes locked with golden ones, a sudden calm blossoming between them. The distressed whisper that left the witcher's lips sounded crystal clear to his ears.

" _I cannot lose her."_

No. _No no no no_.

He might be about to die but, still he fought against the wish that drove a blade deeper into his heart. It was a battle he was destined to lose. More magic seeped out of his body, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat when the wish was granted. Then it went dark around him.

_I hope you can be happy now, Geralt._

+++

He died. At least it felt like he did.

Until he didn't, his eyes blurry as he opened them again, woken by the noise of someone yelling. Turned out he was indeed alive and also still situated in his own body. Surely that was a thing to rejoice about but he felt too drained to feel anything.

Sitting up he took in the rubble of the leftover building. Somehow they made it to the ground floor without much more than a few scratches. A prominent difference was his skin marred with silver lines, scars now littering his body where the tears had begun to open up. It could be worse though, he tried to remind himself. It failed to comfort him.

Looking around he found Geralt and Yennefer, both also very much alive, seemingly involved in a shouting match. Well at least Yennefer shouted, visibly infuriated. Geralt was more bound to growling and hissing.

"How dare you do this to me!" an accusing finger pressed against the witcher's chest as the sorceress continued her rant, "You took my _choice_ in this Geralt! No matter what I feel for you, now I'll never be sure if it's real or not."

Her purple eyes fell on his form, her mouth pressed in a grim line. A hint of lilac and gooseberries hit the djinn's nose. 

_Oh dear, here they'd go again._

"You have one more wish left, otherwise the djinn wouldn't still be here. Use it to severe the bond you thrust upon us.", a certain ring of finality clung to her words, "Use it or I'll walk away and never return. Do it or **this** is over."

What a dreadful day. First he nearly died, then his heart was broken and now he was going to be robbed of his promised freedom by the man he lost his heart to. All in the name of whatever these two over there had. 

His shoulders slumped. All he had to do now was to wait for the wish to come and he'd be back to… he wasn't sure. The seal caging him was still intact so probably another damned amphora would materialise around it, out of thin air and imprison him for another century. Fun, indeed.

Geralt's gaze met his again, apologetic and remorseful. He had been an idiot to believe that the witcher was any different. In the end it all came down to three wishes and nothing more.

The white-haired man hesitated for a moment, then steeled himself. 

"I'm sorry…"

Jaskier didn't know if this was directed to him or to the man himself to sooth the guilt but he nodded nonetheless. Taking a last look at his master, his friend and love, he closed his eyes and waited.

" _I wish for Jaskier to be set free of the spell chaining him to servitude._ "

A bright light ripped through him to the outside, blinding everything in its wake. A surge of power blasted in his veins, the magical shackles holding him back fell from his wrists and turned to dust as they hit the ground. The djinn was grateful he was still seated on his arse, otherwise he had fallen for sure. Dumbfounded, he took in his bare arms. A tremble violently shook his form, he could even feel it in his core. Hot tears streamed down his face, turning the laughter bubbling up inside him to strange hiccups.

_He was free. Finally free._

The next thing he noticed was a warm hand on his shoulder. Geralt crouched next to him, smiling honestly. Its beauty was addictive. He wanted to see that more. There was no trace of Yennefer , so he assumed she carried out her threat. Jaskier felt somewhat guilty that his friend had to gave up his love for him. On the other hand it warmed his heart to see he did care that much. Looking into the golden eyes, his heart pounded like crazy. 

"Thank you so much, Geralt."

They couldn't stay. It wouldn't take long for the inhabitants of Rinde to come after the escaped prisoner that had also added 'destruction of foreign property' to his list of crimes, not counting the exploded guard. So the other waved it off, clearly flustered and they got their packs, then Roach. After the witcher mounted the horse, he held out a hand for Jaskier to join him. Rolling his eyes about his friend's obvious irritation he added,

"It's been a long day and you're not in a condition to walk. Let's get out of here. Nearly dying once per day is enough."

Oh wasn't he just cute when he was worried? 

He took the hand and seated himself behind his companion, his hands reaching back to grab his lute as they trotted away from the manor.

"You know, I'm quite aware of the sacrifice you made there and I'm willing to pay up for that. Not only will I continue to join you on your adventurous travels to enrich them with my company, I do also know about the location of a friend of mine, a colleague so to say. He is able to annul your second wish and get you back in Yennefer's good books."

Grunting in response, Geralt didn't bother to acknowledge his idea in any other way. This didn't slip his notice and it made him smile, before he continued nonchalantly,

" _Or_ we could head towards Cintra. I think someone is in dire need to both face his destiny and take a nap."

This time he was rewarded with a groan but no complaints followed and he laughed. Another win for him then.

Feeling inspired his fingers struck some chords, the melody already exquisite to his ears. He felt in his bones that this would make a proper hit, maybe even history. So he began to sing.

" _When a humble bard graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song…_ "


End file.
